


Seasick

by dramady, jeck



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-14
Updated: 2011-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeck/pseuds/jeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They find an interesting way to deal with Murphy's seasickness (takes place in II)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seasick

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not ours; please don't sue.

Getting on the ship had been the easy part. They didn't even ask Connor and Murphy for ID, gave them a corner and said they expected work, but that was nothing new. And the ship was big.

But the seas were rough. Connor was fine for the most part; he grit his teeth and sucked it up. But Murphy didn't seem to be doing as well.

Connor tried to push him through it - bully him, more like. And that worked for a few days. But today, Murph looked like outright shit. Like sheep shit, Connor'd told his brother. And he'd lost weight. To himself, Connor'd started to worry. But he wasn't saying a word.

Neither was Murphy. He clutched his side, one arm hugging his middle while he leaned back against one of the huge metal containers. He was resting the back of his head there and with a soft groan, he closed his eyes.

"Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph, let this pass," Murph mumbled under his breath.

A glass of water appeared in front of Murphy's face. "Drink," Connor said, giving his brother's foot a kick for good measure. "Drink the fucking water."

Murphy had to blink his eyes slowly when he looked up at Connor, trying to focus. He took the glass with shaky hands and then took a sip, groaning. "I don't think I can, Connor." He'd keep to the empty stomach, thanks.

"You're getting fucking dehydrated." Connor took the glass back and squatted down, frowning. "You have to fucking drink, you fucker. Don't be a baby." And he pushed the glass forward again.

"Stop calling me a baby!" Murphy grabbed the glass back and it splashed on his chest, wetting the shirt he wore. He forced himself to finish the water just to show Connor that he _could_. Didn't matter that it was dribbling down his chin. "There. You happy now?" He shoved the glass back.

"Fucking ecstatic." Connor stood up and took the glass back, setting it aside where it wouldn't slide off something and break. Then he came back, sliding down the wall to sit next to Murphy, elbows on his knees. He was waiting to see if the water would stay down or not.

They waited while the ship rocked with the waves. Back and forth, back and forth. Rocking and rocking and then Murphy threw his head to the side and, yes, the water came back up. Damn and fuck.

Damn and fucking goddamn. "So help me," And Connor crossed himself, "if you fucking die from seasickness, I'm comin' after you and kickin' your ass all the way to Hell, you hear me?" He moved to kneel, staring his brother in the face.

When Murphy was settled back against the wall again, Connor knelt between his legs and held his shoulders, face close to look at him. "Goddamn it."

"I need to lie down." Connor made Murphy sit up, you see. But very slowly his body was already sliding to the side, the only thing stopping his trip to go horizontal was the hands on his shoulder. "Let me go, asshole."

"Fuck you." Connor yanked him upright again. "At least lie in your bed if you're gonna be a baby about it." And he stood, pulling Murphy with him and pushing him toward the cots on the other wall.

While trying to walk on shaky legs, Murphy was also tugging at his damp shirt. He somehow managed to take it off partway but got tangled between his arms and Connor's, the shirt covering his head. Then he lost his balance. "Fuck!"

"Christ, when'd you get so fucking clumsy?" Connor managed to snort out a laugh, pushing Murphy down onto the bed first, then he tugged his shirt off and pulled it away. "I gotta dress you now, too." Except he didn't offer Murph a new shirt to put on.

It took too much effort to pull his leg up to get to his shoes so Murphy left them on. He groaned and rolled to his side. "Fuck you." But the words lacked any kind of bite especially when Murphy was suddenly grappling at Connor and was tugging him down. "Stay here. Don't go anywhere." Because his whole goddamned world was spinning. "This is fucking worse that a fucking hangover."

"Easy." Connor eased them both down, landing on his side, hugging Murphy to his chest. "Easy."

They lay there quietly, listening to the creaking of the boat and Murphy's ragged breathing. Connor didn't even realize he was stroking a hand up and down his brother's chest.

The touch was comforting, even relaxing. Murphy now had his eyes closed and his groans had subsided, softening with each stroke over his bare chest. "You're so good at this, you could be Ma," Murphy teased but from the way he held on to Connor's arm, guiding it lower on his abdomen to his taut belly with the slowly numbing pain, Murphy didn't want him to stop at all. "Mmm."

It was on the tip of Connor's tongue to say that if Ma touched him this way, Connor didn't want to know. But he let his hand be moved as Murphy saw fit. He could feel the waistband of his brother's pants. His nose was buried in Murphy's hair. "You don't smell sick." Thank God.

Maybe he was lethargic. Maybe it was a hallucination. Because Murphy had no explanation when his breath grew ragged and then his hips were beginning to slowly rock and then he'd press his ass against Connor's groin. He was making these small sounds, too, because it felt good -- Connor felt good.

"Murph?" Connor asked, leaning his head back and up to make sure he could see his brother's face. Somehow, his hand was on his brother's crotch. His brother's hard crotch. Tentatively, he squeezed.

Murphy almost jumped out of his skin. His body jerked and he gasped before settling back down, his hips pushing against Connor's hand. "Y-yeah …?" The single word came out breathy, rasped.

Connor smirked. "Nothin'." Nimbly, he undid the fly of Murphy's jeans and slid his hand inside, stroking over hot, hard skin. "That help you feel better? Brother?"

The answer came when Murphy shuddered and then he moaned. His stretched his body out a bit more, opening up to Connor's touch. "Y-yeah …" Murphy held on to the other arm around him, pulling on Connor tighter so that he was warm and snug. "L-lots better." Fucker better not stop.

No, Connor stroked him, just like he would himself, long, root to tip with a twist at the end there, friction over the head, using precome to slick his grip, tightening as he went. "If I'd known this'd make you feel better, woulda done it sooner," he teased in a whisper which made the hair on the back of Murphy's head stand on end.

Murphy could still feel the brush of air from Connor's words. He'd say something in return but his brain had already fizzled and with the body heat and pleasure this was generating, it was a wonder it hadn't oozed out his ears. "Jesus, Connor!" It was a whispered desperation because it felt so, so _good_.

"Shut it. Don't want everyone to hear." Whispered too. Connor sped up his hand, jerking Murphy off hard and fast. His own dick was hard, curved in his pants against Murphy's ass. He rocked his hips, biting off his groaning in his brother's ear.

Well it wasn't like he can just shut it. Murph needed a little help. So, the arm he was holding he pulled higher, using Connor's hand to muffle his sounds. There was still muted grunting, the bed creaking with their weight and movement and then there was the soft moans from Murphy that got a bit louder the closer he got to coming. "Connor …" He gasped, grabbing his brother tighter.

Connor's hand tightened over his mouth. "Fucking be quiet," he whispered. Then he let go of Murphy's mouth just long enough to move to undo his fly and push his jeans down, freeing himself with a gusted sigh of relief. Then he resumed his position, his cock sliding between his brother's asscheeks. "Ah, fuck." There. That was better.

It was hot. Hot. When Connor's dick pressed up against Murphy's ass all he could feel was the intense heat. He moved his hips as much as he could, pushing into Connor's hand and then shifting to press back against his dick. But then Murphy was getting too far gone that he couldn't keep the noises down. "Shit, Connor. Shit …!"

That left Connor no choice but to cover his brother's mouth again. He jerked him off hard and fast, his own pleasure building with just enough friction to keep him going. "Remind me next time to gag you," he hissed. "Fucking come already."

The image of this happening again, because Connor said next time, plus the gagging (why was that hot?) and the heat of his breath when he hissed pushed the pleasure to the fore. Murphy started to tremble and then he sucked in a deep breath, his body tensing right before he spilled, hips rocking into Connor's grip. "Connor!"

It came out muffled sounding, but damn it, Murphy was still loud. "Shut up!" he hissed, but he use the flat of his hand to rub at Murph's dick against his stomach and push back to give him more friction. His dick was sliding between Murphy's legs, against his ass and balls and a shuddery breath escaped. Fucking yes. "Ah, Christ," he panted. He was going to come.

Conner moved like he was fucking a girl. The realization of that sobered Murphy up but just a bit. He couldn't help listening to Connor's curses, his moans; he was loud, too. "Shut up before someone hears us!" Murphy whisper-yelled even while he moved his ass back for his brother.

That angle did it, sending Connor over the edge. To keep quiet, he bit down in the back of Murphy's neck. He hadn't even been seasick and he felt fucking amazing.

When he finally slowed, he didn't move, pressed to Murphy's back. "You feel better now, you baby?"

"I'm covered in fucking come." Murph whined, looking over his shoulder, reaching for his backside with his hand. "Felt like you needed it."

"Needed you covered in come?" Connor smirked. "Go take a shower if you're going to be all whiny, baby." He even shoved, hard enough to send Murphy right off the cot, hah!

"Ow! you motherfucker!" Even while still on the floor Murphy already threw a punch then he launched himself at Connor. "That _hurt_ asshole!" Murph's pants were still around his knees and his ass was stuck in the air.

Connor's pants were around his hips so they were equally handicapped. That didn't keep him from giving as good as he got, though. Of course, they knocked the cot over and went banging into the wall and Connor couldn't use his legs to pin Murphy down. Which meant that there were elbows flying as well as the curses. "Careful, Murph," he taunted. "Might barf all over yourself again."

"Barf? I'm not gonna --!" Murphy stopped abruptly, both of his hands over his face to block the punches. "I'm not gonna barf." Huh. What did you know? He felt better already. "Fuck me."

Oh, as if Connor could let that go by! "Is that an offer, then?" He asked, smirk carved into his face. "I won't turn you down, if it is." And with that, his brother got a slap on the ass.

"Quit hitting me, you asshole!" Murphy rubbed his ass. "That hurt!" He pulled his pants up and glared at Connor but it didn't last too long. Murphy head was kind of stuck with what Connor said about not turning him down." Shit. "Put yer clothes on before someone walks in here and thinks you want your ass fucked."

Still grinning, Connor did as was suggested. They righted the cot and when he settled again, he just watched Murphy. And sure, he looked smug. He cured his brother's seasickness. Connr MacManus: curer of ills. Ha.

"Stop smiling." Murphy balled his shirt (the one he used to wipe all that jizz off their bodies) and he threw it at Connor. He was smiling just a little though. "How long do you think before we get there?"

"Dunno. Two weeks?" Connor hadn't been paying attention when they told them how long the voyage was for. "How's your tummy, Murphy?"

Murphy rubbed his belly and when he looked at Connor his hand kind of strayed a bit more southward. "I'll live." Idle hands … so he pulled a couple of cigarettes out and lit it up. "Here," he stood and wandered over to where Connor's cot was. He laid down on his belly next to his brother and they shared a smoke.

The teasing faded as they thought about why they were on the boat in the first place. "You ready?" Connor asked, flicking ash from his cigarette. Were _they_ ready was more what he was asking.

"Yeah," Murphy said after a while, dragging on the cigarette. "Yeah. I'm ready." He was nervous but just a bit. "Are you?" He made o-rings directed at Connor with the cigarette smoke.

Show-off. Connor rolled his eyes. But he nodded. Yeah, he was ready. "No more barfing? Gotta have you strong." It'd been a long fucking time since they'd done this shit.

"Well … no more barfing today." Murph grinned at Connor. "Besides. I think you just found the cure." He laid on his back and blew smoke rings up in the air, his lips in a smirk.

Don't think that that mouth didn't give Connor ideas. And Connor was all about the ideas. He was the smart one in the relationship after all. "All right then." He laid down on his belly. "Gonna have to go back to your own cot, bedhog."

Murphy flicked the cigarette to the ground. "What if I don't want to." His hand moved up Connor's body from thigh to shoulder. "Are you going to make me?"

Was that how it was going to be then? Connor grinned outright, his own cigarette flicked away. He would make Murphy all right.

They didn't sleep much that night, but Murphy didn't barf anymore either.


End file.
